


The Helot Project

by DorianValerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Aurors, Battle, Gen, Hogwarts Era, No Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), POV Alternating, Statute of Secrecy, War, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianValerian/pseuds/DorianValerian
Summary: Harry Potter is born into a world without a Statute of Secrecy — a world with sane schools, no legendary scars and great terror simmering under the surface. Vastly AU (1692 onwards), no bashing, no romance before Year 4. Important!side-characters. Muggle influence on the Wizarding World (no muggle!wank). International intrigue.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Helot Project

**THE HELOT PROJECT**

* * *

**Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.**

* * *

**Special thanks to AwesomePossum024 for agreeing to beta-read this fledgeling project.**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**_17th March 1692  
_ _Malfoy Manor_ **

" _What_ exactly do you mean, Yaxley, when you say I don't have a brother?"

Septimus Malfoy stopped pacing on the Persian carpet in front of the fireplace to glare at the man in the flames.

"Septimus, please —"

"Merlin! He was your darned best man!"

"Septimus," Yaxley stopped abruptly as if mulling over what he was going to say, as Septimus continued trying to burn a hole through him with his eyes. "I really don't know— do you want me to come up there to Wiltshire? Are you sure you're alright?"

"The only thing that isn't right is how _no one_ seems to remember Brutus Malfoy, or even have any idea he existed! First with his wife I assumed it was just her being prissy about his absence, but then even my house-elf, under pain of death to tell only the truth…"

"Septimus, there hasn't been a Brutus Malfoy for I don't even know how many years now."

Septimus pinched the bridge of his and exhaled slowly. If even the Lord Manager of the International Depot did not know…

"Very well, this is not going anywhere. Thank you for your help, Edwin." He waved his hand at the fireplace and Edwin Yaxley disappeared in the process of opening his mouth.

* * *

**_The Chamber of the Wizengamot_ **

"...is why carpets imbued with levitation and paddle charms must be banned from our fair shores forevermore, not only to maintain the solid British broomstick industry…"

Lord Duncan Macmillan rubbed his temple as the representative from one of the many broomstick lobbies droned on and on monotonously. The cavernous chamber, hewn from the sheer rock underneath the city of London, stretched, seemingly limitless, upwards towards the otherworldly azure blue glow of a sky that could never otherwise be seen on Earth. A thousand spheres of magic in its purest form shed light upon the stark white marble walls of the chamber, from where the portraits of Kings and Druidic Chiefs long-gone gazed upon the plum-robed assembly that formed the Wizengamot.

Duncan allowed his eyes to roam around the chamber for a moment as the broomstick representative showed no signs of wrapping up ("...for nothing can beat a solid British broomstick between your thighs…"). To his right was Lord Smith, a man known for his temper, belly and affinity for muggle girls (and subsequently, his stringent insistence against permanently decoupling the two magical and muggle communities). Two rows in front of him, Lady Stokes continued to bear an outward expression of unwavering stoicism, while rumours of her mental health after her grandson's brutal demise at the hands of some of King's stablehands were whispered with passion in every nook of upper society. On the dais in the front sat Chief Warlock Bulstrode, a modest woman with a lot to be modest about. Turning his eyes over to the 'other' side of the aisle, as it were, he could see Lord Ralston Potter working quietly with Heir Greengrass on what was likely the latest speech of the 'Remainers' in response to Lord Malfoy's tirade on muggles during the previous session.

"...and so I beseech you, my Lords, on behalf—"

"Yes, yes Mister Dimpywillow, I am _quite_ certain," interrupted the Chief Warlock, gingerly charming glass-bottom spectacles clean before putting them back on, "that the great import of this matter has been conveyed successfully to this august assembly. We thank you, and assure you that the matter will be pondered upon by the Wizengamot."

The broomstick man, Dimpywillow, gave a deep bow in the direction of the dais, then followed by a shorter one to the rest of the room, and then went off to the spectator stands.

"Now, if there are no other matters—"

"Chief Warlock, if I may." A man with mousy brown hair stood up from his position towards the back of the chamber, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the dais. Edwin Yaxley, one of the most vocal proponents of a global muggle-magical decoupling (tentatively known as the Statute of Secrecy) and, in private, more _violent_ measures, second only to Lord Malfoy in his bigotry.

" _Lord Malfoy…_ " mused Duncan, as he went through the minutes of the last debate on the muggle matter, " _I wonder why he isn't present to push the agenda further._ " There was a flurry of commotion around Potter and Greengrass as they and their allies prepared their material to refute Yaxley on the matter of the proposed Statute of Secrecy, who shuffled his parchment around after getting a short, weary nod from the Chief Warlock. " _And then there were the rumours of him asking around for a non-existent brother of his in Knockturn Alley. Oh well, something was bound to addle his mind with all the rituals that family performed_."

He observed Lord Black, seated near the back, crazed eyes flitting all over the chamber. " _Bad enough they roped the Blacks into it…_ "

He settled back into his seat as Yaxley began spewing the standard pureblood schtick, and the other side made appalled noises at the right moments. Lord Smith's gaze remained riveted to the Lord Mayor's daughter, who was in attendance as the representative of the City of London.

"We all know of the dangers posed to wizarding communities over the world by muggles, and I simply cannot emphasise enough on the importance of a globally coordinated effort, namely the Statute that we have proposed…"

This was going to be another one of those days.

* * *

**_Two hours later_ **

The first round of debates had ended and the Wizengamot had just adjourned for tea when there was a commotion near the emerald-set oak door of the chamber which led upwards to a clearing just outside the walls of the city. From her vantage point on the dais, Chief Warlock Bulstrode could see the missing man himself, Lord Malfoy thundering down the central aisle...towards the cluster centred around Lord Potter.

"Oh dear," she murmured, as Yaxley broke off from his discussion with Lady Stokes, making an intercept course towards the fuming platinum blond.

"Septimus, _what_ are you—"

"Lord Malfoy! Finally decided to show your face, did you? Tired of getting your attack dog Yaxley to do your work?"

Yaxley's head whipped around and he glared at the smirking Lord Potter. "Why you traitorous—!"

Bulstrode observed the muggle representatives leaving in a huff — the Lord Mayor and Lord Malfoy had been on especially bad terms ever since Malfoy had blocked his route to a knighthood — as she whispered to the scribe to omit the exchange from the official record.

"My brother is missing," Septimus cut in, glowering.

Greengrass stifled a laugh with the sleeve of his robes, and Potter opened his mouth to add some more of the trademark Ralston Potter snark.

"My brother is missing on an expedition to Salem," repeated Malfoy in _the voice_ , a voice fit to freeze hell three times over, " _and nobody seems to remember he ever existed._ " He whipped out his hand before anyone could say anything, and intoned: "I, Septimus Lord Malfoy, do swear on my magic, and my family's magic, that what I have said was in good faith, and a stable state of mind."

A hush fell upon the assembly and Potter continued to stare at Malfoy as if waiting for him to spontaneously combust. Nothing happened, and magic confirmed the veracity of Malfoy's oath.

It wasn't every day that a hitherto unknown heir to one of the most powerful families in _Europe_ sprang out of nowhere, after all.

And yet… two Silent Druids in the spectator pavilion caught Bulstrode's eyes. Their eyes were narrowed, and they were engaged in a hushed discussion amongst themselves. It was the same with the more senior members of the assembly.

Something was distinctly not right.

"What is the meaning—"

"Potter you better—"

"—of this subterfuge—"

Bulstrode hammered her gavel on her table to restore order. As the Wizengamot slowly returned to their designated positions, the hubbub died down. Lord Malfoy sat down with a determined look in his eyes.

"Now, if we're all settled, Lord Malfoy…?"

Septimus sent a stiff nod in her direction. "My brother, Brutus Octavius Malfoy, went to the American colonies not two weeks ago to assess some business opportunities in the Salem Institute—"

There was a sudden outburst of murmuring.

"—and did not contact me for his daily report two nights ago. It was then that I discovered that my contacts in the Institute were not reachable, and as for those in the area that I could contact...told me, with all sincerity, that the _Salem Institute has been abandoned_ for over four decades—"

"It has," coughed Greengrass.

"—and that if," Septimus continued, glowering at Greengrass, "I ever had a brother, he had most certainly not shown up anywhere in Salem."

Most in the Wizengamot and all in the spectator stands bore expressions of outright confusion, but some…

" _This cannot possibly be related...no! This had been restricted to muggles up till this point,"_ Bulstrode reasoned furiously, looking at similar expressions of troubled thought on Lord Potter and Lord Macmillan's faces, " _no reason to assume this is related, seeing how it was a wizarding enclave that was targeted._ "

"In light of my standing in our society, and my great contributions to the noble causes undertaken by British, and European wizards," Lord Malfoy continued, "I insist that the Wizengamot demand an expeditionary force be constituted by the ICW to investigate these events."

"I think it is obvious," the Greengrass heir sneered, "that this is just some Malfoy trick to—"

"That is quite enough, Aaron," Lord Potter interrupted, as he stood up to address the dais. "I request the Chief Warlock recognise a motion to adjourn for a short caucus."

The motion passed, with all looking at Lord Potter in astonishment and Lord Malfoy merely staring out into the middle distance. The Chief Warlock sighed and headed down to join the fray.

* * *

Duncan pondered as he waded down the central aisle as the wizards and witches of the Wizengamot shouted at each, very occasionally suppressing the urge to hex their opponent.

" _Ouch!_ Morgana's unmentionables, Yaxley! Have the decency to aim elsewhere, you freak of nature!" bellowed Greengrass from somewhere in the purple-hued melee, while the muggles watched on, wearing their general expressions of weary dismay.

And even more occasionally, succumbing to said urge. Duncan shook his head as he neared the group centred around Lord Potter and Lord Malfoy.

"...some nefarious purposes of his own, I'm sure." murmured Lord Smith.

"Alright, my Lords. I have taken your opinions into counsel, now might you leave me to confer with Lord Malfoy in private? And ah," Lord Potter said, "Lord Macmillan, if you would care to join us."

Duncan tilted his head at Lord Potter, who whipped out his wand and drew it sharply downwards, murmuring an incantation as he did so, and there was a flash of brilliant white. The three were still in the Wizengamot chamber, but not quite the one they had been in second ago. _This_ chamber was devoid of people, and the colours were all wrong. The walls were bronze, the frames empty, and the sky…

" _Best not to ponder much upon the magics of House Potter."_

He looked at Lord Potter's eyes through the green mist and saw what seemed to be a grudging agreeability towards working, in a limited manner, with his principal rival, Lord Malfoy. Understandable, really.

"Lord Malfoy, I—"

"I _will_ be going to Salem to investigate this." Septimus cut Ralson off smoothly as his eyes roamed over the creatures flying high up in the sky. "Seeing as I am your only possible lead in this scenario, I leave you to decide whether an ICW crack team might benefit me...something I can only get if all three factions of the wizengamot agree to request it." At this, Septimus stole a glance towards Duncan, who looked back noncommittally.

"Ah, yes, well, speaking of that, not that I am doubting the truth behind your...brother's existence, but _how_ exactly did you…?" Lord Malfoy said nothing. "Oh no you didn't— _of course_ you did," sighed Lord Potter, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, belying his nervousness.

Duncan coughed politely. "Perhaps later we could discuss the details as to how Lord Malfoy remembers what we never knew to exist, but for now, could we move on the ICW team we were talking about?" The two faction leaders looked at each other warily and nodded. "I have a contact in France who might help expedite the process..."

Some things were more important than petty questions of the nation's leadership and society-altering bills.

* * *

**_19th March 1692  
_ ** _**Salem, Massachusetts**  
_

The eight of them, five wizards and three witches, rode on fine Thoroughbreds, wands held openly at their sides, along the path that led from Salem to the location of the erstwhile Salem Institute (brooms, flight and apparition had been banned in Massachusetts Bay after the fiasco of '54, though there was talk of lifting the ban in light of the growing outspokenness among the 'witchfinder' community). In the lead was Lord Malfoy, sporting a dark green dragonhide outfit, alongside Law-witch Vanessa Clark, a willowy woman from the Salem Law Outpost, followed by Lord Potter, ICW Squad Leader Jaques Delacour and two ICW Squadswizards, with two more bringing up the rear. The midday sun glared upon the plume of dust that billowed behind the riders and sparkled upon the waters of the bay.

" _Cavaliers!_ Riders behind us!" shouted Delacour suddenly, pulling at the reins of his horse and swiftly turning about. Septimus looked backwards and sure enough, two more riders were galloping hard to catch up to the eight from the direction Salem was in.

"Friends! Do not fire! Friends!," shouted one of the riders, and sure enough, they bore the insignia of the Massachusetts provincial regiment. The party of eight slowed to a trot as the muggle soldiers pulled up beside them.

"You uh, one of _them_ folk off to the abandoned institute?" asked the one who had pulled up beside Septimus, who gave nothing more than a slight sniff to indicate he had heard the question. "Right, um…" the soldier continued, looking at the rest of the party.

"We are who you seek, Lance Corporal…" Ralston Potter trailed off, having noticed the insignia on the man's shoulder.

"Cummings. And you must be Ralston Potter?"

"That's _Lord_ Potter," snarled Septimus as he broke off into a canter once again, "Know your place, muggle, even in front of a muggle-lover like him."

"No need for any of that, Septimus." Ralston's eyes were cool as he stared down his fellow Lord of the Wizengamot, motioning Cummings to not retort. "Now, Lance Corporal?"

"The captain, he heard there were a group of you folk, uh magicals, from Britain poking about in the area, and with the recent tensions and all…" Cummings shrugged helplessly. "We are to escort you for the duration of your stay."

Up ahead, Clark had started to slow.

"Is there a problem, Law-witch Clark?" Septimus called out.

She turned backwards, uncertainty on her face. "Ah...are you sure we need to go any further? Really, it's just a set of abandoned buildings."

Septimus narrowed his eyes.

"You know, Lord Malfoy," Ralston said nonchalantly from behind him. "I _am_ having a feeling of some reticence towards the idea of riding to the Institute."

The Lords exchanged a look.

"Tell me, Clark and you muggles...when do you last remember going to this abandoned property? Such places would be a haven for adolescents, hmm?" Septimus asked the locals.

Cummings's horse whinnied. "Well...not that I can remember."

Septimus directed his gaze forwards. "We continue. As you said, it's just an abandoned building. No harm in checking it out, eh?" With that Septimus spurred his horse onwards.

"Right on," nodded Ralston, and increased his pace to ride alongside Septimus. "At any rate, we should be nearing the Institute now. Come on now, everyone."

The others followed, unsure, with the two muggles nervously handling their bayonets.

Septimus watched out of the corner of his eye as Ralston surreptitiously cast a few speech-scrambling charms — nothing on the level of what he had cast in the Wizengamot, of course — and leaned towards him.

"Something is definitely _off_. And to be able to affect even me..."

"Yes...something eerily similar to the incident of '66."

Ralston nodded as they approached a ridge which marked the boundaries of the Institute's wards, its sapphire spires visible in the distance. "I felt the same...sensation sweep across the chamber when you swore the oath. As if magic was accepting the truth of your words...but grudgingly."

"Lord Potter," Septimus ground out, cancelling the charms and riding over the ridge, "I would appreciate it if you did not concern—"

"Brutus Charlus Malfoy!"

Septimus's neck snapped around so fast that he almost got whiplash, as he pulled on the reins of his horse. He turned his mount around, staring at the incredulous expression on Ralston's face.

"What was that, Lord English?" shouted Delacour as he rounded the ridge, wand out.

"You remember?" snapped Septimus.

"I—"

" _Merde!_ "

Both lords of the Wizengamot looked over at the rest of their party who were looking at the distant spires with confusion evident in their eyes.

"Hey! The Institute! It's not supposed to be abandoned—" started Clarke.

"It's _not_ abandoned, I remember they had thrown a gala just last week...but that can't possibly be!" Cummings exclaimed.

"I _also_ remember it being abandoned last week, just like the week before that, and the one before…"

"Silence!" shouted Ralston, calming his agitated horse. "It is obvious that there are some sorts of extremely powerful memory altering charms tied to this place, coupled with a repulsion charm. The Institute is _not_ abandoned, or at least wasn't abandoned until a few days ago and—"

"Every second we dawdle here is another second my brother might be spending in that place," Septimus spoke sharply.

"Ah, people?" said one of the ICW men from the back of the group. The party turned around as one and gaped.

"Merlin…"

There was a wall of what seemed to be the blackest black anyone had ever seen, splitting the sky in two and trapping the sun on the other side. It stretched in what seemed like a curve as far as the eye could see, though gradually disappearing the higher one looked. Clark brought out a pair of Omnioculars and swore.

"The...wall. It stretches all around, as far as I can see. Without flight, we're trapped."

There were no seagulls squawking in the distance. The wind had stopped. There was a deafening silence all around. And Septimus couldn't help but notice that the grass closest to the blackness had wilted and died.

"Bombarda Maxima!" And a spell of pulsing violet crashed against the wall, for all the good it did. Ralston lowered his wand in infuriation, and not a little trepidation.

"Right. Right," said Delacour, the man rumoured to have banished Dark Lord Barnabas Deverill to beyond the Urals singlehandedly, with an unmistakable fear modulating his pitch, "We shall assume hostile intent. Loras, Schmidt, Ivanov, wands out, keep stunners at the ready. Lance Corporal Cummings and your friend, fix bayonets. Let's ride."

* * *

**_Salem Witches' Institute_ **

Originally established by the native tribes as a school for all magic users, after a period of dereliction it had been taken over by European witches at the beginning of the century. They had sought to escape both the fledgeling muggle persecution and to obtain a safe place to perform magic away from their often-suppressed home lives. It had grown into the largest single institute of magic in the New World, with talks of opening its doors to male students too. Well, at least it had been.

Ralston had yet to sense any living thing since the accursed 'wall' had appeared.

They moved silently through the deserted avenues of the Institute, having left their horses at the gates with one of the ICW witches and one of the wizards to stand guard. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under their boots as they walked down the central path towards the tarnished-copper, domed building — the administrative block, Clark had said — which stood in the centre of the complex. Around them, the green spires of the Salem Witches Institute rose high into the sky, with Clark's regular whispers of detection charms echoing off their surface.

Ralston looked over to Lord Malfoy. They had had no sign of his brother as of yet, and he could only imagine how the loss of a sibling would feel. And still, Lord Malfoy maintained his blank expression.

" _A man wrapped in an enigma,"_ mused Ralston, turning his attention back to the great doors of the upcoming building. " _Easily the filthiest bigot on the wizengamot and yet...he has some sense of honour about him. A peculiar kind, yes, but House Malfoy has always had honour, going by the stories the portraits—_ "

"Halt," came the piercing voice of the Frenchman. They came to a stop in the square in front of the domed building — the place which seemed to be the focus of the _wrongness_. "There are no other viable entrances," he stated, looking over to Clark who nodded in assent, "and creating one through the back may make noise and take time we may not have."

He raised his wand to his temple, closed his eyes, and slowly drew out a brilliantly shining string of blue-tinged white. "Ah, Lord Potter…"

Ralston nodded grimly as the other magicals raised their own wands. He looked at the two muggles with an eyebrow raised.

"Are these…?"

"Yes. Just in case."

"Ah. Very well." And Ralston raised his wand to the muggles' temples in succession.

He pooled the different strands from all members of the party in a ball of light — swirling with blue, purple and green, encompassed in a brilliant white — and with a flick of his wand and a murmur, it was gone.

The party looked at one another and turned as one towards the doors in front of them as Delacour raised his wand.

* * *

**_22nd March 1692  
_ _The Chamber of the Wizengamot_ **

The assembly waited with bated breath. The stands were packed with both muggles and wizards, and the entire muggle representative contingent was in attendance.

An emergency session had been convened by Edwin Yaxley, and the future was on the line.

"...and after some recent lengthy discussion with Lord Malfoy and our compatriots, we, the Upper Faction, have decided to, in the interest of… _both muggles and wizardkind_ , to," Yaxley said, taking a breath as if he could not believe what he was going to say, "withdraw the Application for the Statute of Secrecy. We no longer wish for this matter to be taken to the ICW, and no longer wish for such a Statute. We shall be cooperating with the Lower Faction and the muggle government in working towards...ever closer union between our worlds."

The chamber burst into a cacophony. Those on the stands cheered, and the lone witchfinder walked out in a huff. International observers and heralds alike wrote furiously on parchment. The two Silent Druids merely looked at one another and nodded. In the body of the Wizengamot itself, disbelief reigned supreme for a moment, before the Lower Faction followed the lead of the Stands and the Upper sat quietly in resignation.

In a corner of the chamber but _not fully there_ Lords Potter and Malfoy conferred with an increasingly agitated Lord Mayor of London.

And on the floor of the chamber, Lord Macmillan's eyes flashed a vivid purple as he went to offer his condolences to Lady Stokes.

**Author's Note:**

> AN 1: First off, welcome to my first fanfiction, and indeed, the first major piece of fiction I have ever written! I'll be updating this roughly every three weeks, with chapter lengths generally being longer than this. We'll get to the main timeline and see Harry in the next chapter :)
> 
> AN 2: As stated in the description, this is massively AU, with multiple points of departure from Canon. Many characters will also have differing personalities, Harry included (owing to his different upbringing), along with other MCs. As for OCs: There will be quite a few OCs in this fic (I am including both characters that I come up with entirely by myself, and those whose names are present in Canon but have nonexistent personalities as an 'OC'). There will also be a few important muggle characters (who will by necessity be OCs), but rest assured: this fic will decidedly not be a muggle!wank. I hope to explore the wider wizarding world, and how it interacts with the muggle one, in this fic. Social commentary will likely be part of a fair number of plotlines.
> 
> AN 3: This fic has elements inspired by Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin. Oh and also — shout out to the fine folk on TheSinisterMan's discord server for helping me get started with this project.
> 
> Enjoy!


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